Limelight || A Shourtney Story

.17 fill the void (courtney)

The sound of keys jangling into the lock of the front door startled Courtney later that afternoon. She had been pacing, crying, and over-analyzing since she asked Shayne to leave the apartment.

The sight of apologetic azure eyes greeted her each time she closed her eyes. Flashbacks to Damien's phone screen mocking her with the TMZ photo clouded her vision. Inklings of fear for her safety were eminent.

Even so, the thought of Shayne's words lingered in the mess of memories swirling within her mind.

"They'll lose interest. It's going to be okay."

Why was he interested in a nobody like her? Why had she trusted him in the first place? And why did she think she could pull off dating a celebrity at all?

Lather, rinse, and repeat.

"I've got something for you," Damien brought her back to earth, collapsing into the buttery leather couch that she'd nested in.

Damien tossed a small box over to her lap, wrapped with paper in a lovely shade of blue. The weight of the box surprised her. Her eyebrows quirked in confusion.

"What?" Courtney asked.

"Not from me, don't be weird. Shayne sent it over, and he promises her won't bother you again," Damien explained.

A large lump in her throat appeared at the sound of his name. Shit.

Why was she so damn attached to him?

Delicate fingers carefully tore apart the paper of the box, revealing a hefty, hardcover novel.

The deep wine colored, leather bound novel sat among the paper precariously. Golden gilded lettering detailed the spine and the cover. In medieval, scripted text, the title Hamlet shone brilliantly.

"Holy shit," she gasped softly.

"Just wait until you read the card," Damien smirked.

A small white piece of card stock was delicately placed in the inner cover of the book. Trembling hands pulled it out of the book, revealing a messy scrawl written in black pen.

From Act 2, Scene 2:

'Doubt thou the stars are fire.
Doubt that the sun doth move.
Doubt truth to be a liar.
But never doubt I love.'

To the Coffee Girl - maybe Shakespeare isn't all that bad.

S.

The collector's edition of Hamlet was special, but the card was even more so. Hot tears gently pricked the corners of her eyes.

"It's Hamlet," her breath caught in her throat. Tears threatened to well over and spill onto her cheeks.

"You okay?" Damien's voice softened. Deep brown eyes shone with concern.

"No. Definitely not."

All Courtney wanted to do was respond to any one of the dozens of voice messages Shayne left for her. She'd thank him for the gift, and he'd tease her for getting so emotional about it. Maybe they'd laugh and cook dinner together again tonight.

But that wasn't real life.

Real life was fear. Real life was scrolling through Damien's Twitter feed to see slanderous comments replying to the TMZ. Real life was any given reporter actively searching for her whereabouts, causing Courtney to hide in the apartment all day.

Real life was waiting, watching, knowing that David would find her again.

So instead, she cried. She cried for the chaste kiss she once shared on a balcony under the stars. She cried for a Cinderella dress that made her feel like she was worth something for the first time in year. She cried for a boy who - she swore - could have been the one.